


victory rain

by catmanu



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, I love them so much I just can't, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Soft!!!, blink and you'll miss it infidelity, celebrating victories in the best way possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: He walks to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, fixes up his hair a little, grins at himself in the mirror.  He looks good.  So does the bruise bitten into his shoulder last night by two prominent front teeth.Once he’s cured himself of his tipsy morning breath he goes back into the dim room and realizes it’s still raining.  It’s the same rain that started in the second half of the game yesterday and brought his friends to victory.
Relationships: Luka Modrić/Ivan Rakitić
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	victory rain

**Author's Note:**

> A little smut to celebrate Croatia making it into Euro 2020 without too much drama. I'm not crying, you're crying.

Luka is sleeping in such a funny way that Ivan’s tempted to take a photo to show him when he wakes up. He’s sprawled out with an arm hanging off the side of the bed and one leg over the blanket, showing off the briefs he insists on sleeping in—listen, he’s explained, if there was a fire and we had to go running out of the room we’re sharing, if we’re totally naked everyone will know what we were up to, if we’re not then there’s at least the tiniest bit of doubt—and the shape of his cock, half-hard underneath—Ivan swallows at the sight and then smiles at Luka’s limbs, at his messy hair, at all of it.

He walks to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, fixes up his hair a little, grins at himself in the mirror. He looks good. So does the bruise bitten into his shoulder last night by two prominent front teeth.

Once he’s cured himself of his tipsy morning breath he goes back into the dim room and realizes it’s still raining. It’s the same rain that started in the second half of the game yesterday and brought his friends to victory. Or, well. Ivan thinks about last night. _Don’t fuckn…say that again…_Luka had mumbled as Ivan carried him through the doorway of their hotel room in a haze of rakija and sweat and kisses. _Don’t ever…or I’ll…I don’t care if you’re my co-captain Ivan Rakitić I’ll punch you if you_

_What do you even mean? You’re so stupid when you’re drunk. And you’d never punch me. _

_Say that. You said, downstairs…million times you said it…You guys won tonight, you won tonight. _

_What do you mean? You did._

And Luka’s little fists had banged against his chest with each word. _No. We did. We all did. You’re…a part of us you dumbass. When we win _we win _even if you’re just sitting watching and…so _don’t _let me hear you say that ever—_

The fists had stopped hitting him and were now balled in his party-stained shirt, pulling him closer as Ivan drowned their owner in kisses.

_Mmmmm, Luka. Lukita. You taste like…Euro 2020._

Somehow they got from there to naked to rushed preparation to Ivan buried inside Luka, holding him up by the waist as he fucked him sloppily against the wall. The position was awkward and they didn’t last long before they stumbled back to the bed and finished up in an easier way, with Luka on all fours and Ivan tugging his hair and leaning over to kiss his shoulders and head. From that point on he can't remember much of anything, not even falling asleep.

Ivan lets his eyes drift around the room, gliding over the shadows cast by the rainy-day light and landing on the evidence of the wildness of last night. It's always strange to see that in the calm of the next day. The extra pillows from their bed are all over the floor, as are their clothes—one of Luka’s sneakers by the door, the other one by the bed, Ivan’s jeans half-inside out on the chair with each leg pointing in a different direction, his sweatshirt covering up the coffee maker on the desk.

Their bedside table’s the biggest disaster. Ivan looks at how it’s covered in their things—phones, watches, wallets, rings—he moves his eyes quickly past those—balled-up tissues, the captain’s armband Luka snuck out of the stadium because he knows how much Ivan likes it, the cross Luka always wears around his neck. The lube bottle has leaked all over the table during the night. Whoever had it last hadn’t closed it right. He feels bad about this and gets a clean tissue to wipe it up. 

Luka hates messes, so Ivan quickly tidies the table and tosses the tissues in the trash can before turning back to him.

God, but the way his cock is just _there _like that, drawing attention to itself under the white fabric, is too much for Ivan. He feels as though if he doesn’t do something to it _now _he’ll go crazy, and the drops loudly hitting the window seem to say _go for it, Ivan, _it’s victory rain after all, so he tosses his own underwear into his suitcase and sprawls on the bed. Luka doesn’t move, so he lowers his lips down and places them on the half-hard bulge. He smells sweat and he smells Luka through the fabric. It’s overwhelming; his head spins a little before he gets a grip on himself. How long has he been in love like this? Over ten years, he remembers, and that’s a long time to be feeling this way, and yet it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done.

He runs his mouth over Luka’s cock through his underwear, cupping it with his lips. Luka shifts underneath him and sighs. Ivan sucks at him through the fabric.

A hand softly cups the back of his head. “Morning,” Luka says, his voice thick with sleep.

Ivan lifts his mouth just enough. “Morning.” He puts it back on Luka’s cock, working over the head of it with his lips.

“Sometimes I forget that international break means the best wake-up calls,” Luka says.He’s stretching lazily but there’s a little quiver in his voice already.It’s what Ivan does to him.

“You forget? Sometimes it’s all I think about.”

“Oh, is it?” Luka is playing with the hair at the back of Ivan’s neck and stroking the soft skin behind his ears. It seems so idle but it’s so purposeful that it makes Ivan shiver.

Ivan presses damp kisses up Luka’s whole length. He follows the kisses with the gentle drag of his teeth, and Luka’s hips twitch against his face.

“I w—“ Luka’s hands cup his cheeks. “Want you up here with me.”

“In a few,” Ivan says. “I’m busy. You’d rather have a few kisses than your cock in my mouth?”

“I want everything you just said,” Luka laughs, but his laugh is cut short by Ivan sucking his cock into his mouth in earnest; it’s totally hard now and strains against his briefs. Ivan can imagine it, thick and dark from arousal, bigger than he’d expected when he first saw it like this.

“Maybe you could—could—” Luka’s words tangle at the press of Ivan’s tongue. “You c-could take them off? If you want.”

“Can’t do that,” Ivan says. “If there was a fire…_if we’re totally naked everyone will know what we were up to, if we’re not then there’s at least the tiniest bit of doubt._”

Luka’s laugh warms the room. “Okay, you got me.”

Ivan worships the bulge, getting his nose involved, running it up and down Luka’s cock, taking in the feel and the scent and teasing Luka with his hot breath.Luka’s whisper-begging for him to touch it, _please_, just reach in, just take them off, _please, fuck, Ivan, please_

“You’re so hot when you get like this,” Ivan mumbles, “so needy…I’m going to give you those kisses now…”

He leaves Luka’s cock the way it is and lies down next to him, offering his lips to Luka.Luka studies his body instead.Ivan knows Luka thinks he looks perfect.The compliment has always meant more coming from him than from anyone else.

“You’re injured, Ivan,” Luka says, his fingers pressing slightly into the bruise on Ivan’s shoulder, just enough for Ivan to feel something but not enough for it to hurt.

“Oh, am I?” Ivan whispers. “Will it keep me out of the next game, Captain?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Luka says, “but it’ll hurt for a bit.”

“What kind of injury do I have?”

“Well. I’m not from medical, but I _am _your captain, so I can do a preliminary diagnosis.” His fingers dig in just a little more. _Now _it aches. “It looks like someone bit you so they didn’t make too much noise while you were fucking them against a wall because Bruno is next door and there are things he doesn’t need to hear.”

“Seems accurate.”

Luka could add something else here, teasing further, but he’s _Luka, his Luka_, so what he does is what Luka does, he kisses the bruise softly and says “Does it hurt too much?”

“No, no, no,” Ivan says, shaking his head, “no, no, you could never cause me any pain no matter what.” Luka must know this, but even after over ten years, he still worries. He still cares.

Ivan stretches out on top of him and places his lips on the heart-shape of Luka’s and presses his cock, hard and hot now, against the bulge in Luka’s underwear that’s wet from how he’d mouthed it. He moans into Luka’s mouth and Luka moans into his and their mouths catch the sound.

It’s still raining outside, he thinks as he rolls the white briefs down, feeling Luka automatically lift his hips just enough to help. It’s their victory rain. He plucks the captain’s armband from the bedside table. He adorns the one person he’s loved longer than anyone else in his life save his family. 

“I love you, Captain Luka,” he says, and he means every word.

Ivan hears Luka’s breath catch in his throat. He runs his palms over Ivan’s abs, appreciating, but his stare is locked with Ivan’s stare, his eyes wide and innocent.

“What are you going to do to me this morning?” he asks.

“To you?” Those words make Ivan’s cock twitch. “Or with you?”

“To me, with me…” Luka scratches underneath the armband and raises his eyebrows in a silent _…well?_

“I don’t know how much time we have,” Ivan says, eyeing the bottle of lube. “Probably not that much, so…” He crawls up Luka’s body, legs straddling his chest. He takes Luka under the armpits and Luka moves with him, letting himself get propped up just a bit against the pillows. They always move together, innately understanding and anticipating each other’s actions. Just like on the pitch. No wonder they’re so good out there; no wonder they’re so good in here. 

Ivan runs his thumb over Luka’s lips and Luka lets them fall open, wet and shining.

And Ivan rests his cock on the heart-shape, looking down into Luka’s eyes. They are wide and still and unmoving. He waits patiently. 

“I won’t last very long,” Ivan confesses. 

Luka’s mouth falls open even more and he brushes Ivan’s cock with the tip of his tongue. He wants it. Ivan lets him have it.

It’s so different, he thinks, _letting Luka suck him off _versus _fucking Luka’s mouth_, and this morning he’s not as hungover as he could have been and he’s still all charged up from the win, so it’s the latter he goes for, sliding into Luka’s mouth as far in as he can. Luka takes all Ivan gives him—they’ve had enough years to practice—and even though tears gather at the corners of his brown eyes, he puts his hands on Ivan’s hips to keep him where he is.

“Luka, yeah,” Ivan pants, “that’s right, you want it all, don’t you, take it all for me—“ He tries to use the wall for support, but his palms are slipping.He can’t hold himself up.It just feels too perfect.He really won’t last long at all.

“You’re gonna swallow for me, Luka?” Ivan asks, and Luka can’t say much with Ivan as far into his mouth as he is, so he just moans and widens his eyes and looks up at Ivan with reverence, that’s what it is, it looks like he’s at church or something, like he thinks Ivan is the most perfect thing he’s ever seen—

Ivan grabs Luka’s hair and tugs it as he comes, his fingers tightening so hard they hurt, pulling Luka’s face as close to him as possible.Ivan throws his head back and moans like no one’s in the room next door when he feels the muscles of Luka’s throat working around him. 

He crumples, his chest on top of Luka’s, trying to catch his breath.“God, Luka, wow,” he says, feeling stupid for not having anything better to say.He brushes some strands of sweaty hair off Luka’s forehead, and then sits back, looking at Luka’s perfect body and his neglected cock.He touches the tip of it and kisses the wetness it leaves on his finger.

“Everyone’s probably sleeping the rakija off.” Luka’s voice is hoarse and Ivan feels one more tired pulse run through him._I did that._ “So we probably have some extra time—”

Ivan runs his fingers up Luka’s cock, tracing over the vein.It jerks under Ivan’s touch.

“Well, I’m not sure if I can, y’know,” Ivan says, gesturing at his cock which rests spit-wet and half-soft against his balls.But he reaches for the lube, saying, “I can think of other ways to honor you.”

He slowly fingers and sucks Luka till he comes. Luka’s moans are soft, throaty; he props his legs up so Ivan can lie between them and wraps them around Ivan’s back. Anything to be closer, as close to one being as they can get. Ivan is gentle with his fingers. Luka is surely sensitive after last night.

They’ve done this for over ten years.They’ve done this while sad.They’ve done this while happy.They’ve done this through heartbreak, and at times like now, with victory pulsing in their veins the way Luka’s cock pulses in his mouth.

“Thank you...” Luka whispers. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this. For always being here. For everything. For loving m—“ Ivan presses his fingers urgently against that one spot.“Fuck, Ivan.I’m trying to talk here.”

“And I’m trying to make you come,” says Ivan, and Luka moans at this—Ivan is encouraged to go on, saying, “come on baby, fuck my mouth, _fuck _my mouth—” and he wraps his lips back around Luka’s cock and relaxes his throat, waiting for Luka to go all wide-eyed and wild, to thrust into him—

Luka shoves his fist in his mouth when he comes.Ivan wishes he could look at him, at how beautiful he must be.He settles for grabbing Luka’s sharp hipbones and swallowing it all.

He’s in his own world afterward, resting his cheek on Luka’s thigh, softly kissing the sweaty skin there, and it takes him a moment to realize that Luka is sniffling.Neither of them is particularly afraid to cry, and with each other is the perfect time for it, but “Luka, baby, _baby_—” and Ivan is panicked— “what’s wrong, what’s wrong, what’s _wrong?_” He gets tangled in the blanket as he scrambles up to pull Luka’s small body into his arms and burrow into his hair. 

“Just a thought. Worst timing,” Luka sniffs. “If this is—maybe this is our last Euro but—That doesn’t mean it’s our last _this_.”

The idea that Luka could even _think _this would have to be over makes Ivan want to puke.“Baby, _no,_” he says.“What the hell is even going on in that mind?You weirdo, I want to do this whether we win or lose, once we’re retired, once we’re popping Viagra like champagne bottles.”He tickles Luka under the armpits and Luka smacks him in the face.

“You go ahead and take all the pills you want.I’ll be working _just fine _down there.”He’s smiling through his sniffles and Ivan kisses his face till his lips hurt. 

“Don’t _ever _cry about this kind of thing _ever _again, Luka,” Ivan says.

“It’s hard not to get emotional,” Luka says, wiping his eyes.“I’ve just won so much playing for us.It’s unbelievable how lucky…You must feel it too.”

“You don’t mean just games and trophies, do you?” Ivan asks.

“Nope.You know what I mean.”

_He means me, this, us._

Luka was right last night.When is Luka ever wrong?It wasn’t just everyone on the pitch yesterday who’d won the game.It was all of them.It was him, too._Us.We did it.We won._

He doesn’t realize he’s pulling Luka on top of him, he doesn’t realize he’s saying this out loud, until Luka responds to him and he feels that nice, deep voice vibrate against his chest.

“We did, Ivan,” he’s saying.“We _did._We won.”


End file.
